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by catmanu



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Braavos, F/M, Future Fic, Underage But Whatever, the only otp that matters, they belong together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 08:38:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18891061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catmanu/pseuds/catmanu
Summary: A man awaits a certain ship in Ragman’s Harbor.(A post-show canon drabble.)





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**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this as soon as I saw the leaks for the final episode. Yes, I'm that person. You've been warned.

A man awaits a certain ship in Ragman’s Harbor. 

A man wears a dark cloak, which on the grime-covered docks, covered in barnacles and rotting rope and the air sodden with the stench of fish, will not cause him to stand out.  But some of a man’s hair peeks from underneath his hood.  A man has done this on purpose.

A man stands back from the bobbing, creaking boats, quietly. He will see a girl before a girl sees him.  A man has already heard, in Lorathi cellars and Braavosi taverns and scattered throughout the other Free Cities, of her exploits in her homeland, yes.  Now a man will see for himself how a girl has fared.  A man will see what they have done to her face, to her skin, to the expression in her deep brown eyes. 

A man suddenly catches a familiar scent.  Of cold, of crisp air, of tall trees.  Of wolf.  The North. 

A man smells a girl, and then he sees.

A girl has grown, though not as much as one might expect. But height is not everything, and a girl has grown.  The expression on a girl’s face has gained years; there is a look of wisdom and knowledge in a girl’s eyes that rivals that of some maester years gone from the Citadel.  A girl’s face is scarred.  A man must will himself to stay focused seeing this.  A man has scars himself, of course.  A girl has always resembled a man somewhat.  Now a girl continues to.  She will continue to.  

A man steps into the shadows and catches a girl’s arm as she walks by.  How have a girl’s reflexes fared in her time away from the House of Black and White and her training?  A man must know this to know how to proceed.

And a girl spins toward him, her body tensing.  A girl is ready.

And a girl startles, stops, stills, his hair catching her sharp and alert eye.  For a moment the look softens.  A girl’s face, scarred and aged, has changed.

“Jaqen?” a girl asked.  A girl is surprised.  A girl is not surprised.

“A girl has returned to Braavos after so many adventures.”

“It looks like you knew I was coming,” a girl says.  “How?  Well, I don’t need to ask _that._ But why?”

A man must speak from his heart.  It is what a girl expects.  “A man…A man has always hoped a girl would return to Braavos.” 

“Would return to _you_ , you mean?” 

The scars and the dragons and the evil from beyond the Wall have done nothing to change a girl’s bright smile. 

Nor have they done much to change the strength of a girl’s arms as she wraps them tightly around a man, pressing her hardened body into the softness of his loose cloak.

Such a small thing, a girl. But small in stature only.

A man knows much, yes.  But a man does not yet know what will happen next.

Still, a man is ready.  A girl is ready.


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